


A Good Heart's Quiet Death

by The_Birds_And_Bees



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Except Chara, Flowey the therapist, Frisk is doing their best, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, and they're just here for the vore, chara memer, it's like getting to read a conclusion with no actual body of the story, nobody is happy with this apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 22:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Birds_And_Bees/pseuds/The_Birds_And_Bees
Summary: They love Frisk. Obedient Frisk. Diplomatic Frisk. Frisk who is always calm- Frisk who is always ready to fight. Merciful, loving Frisk. Forgiving Frisk.Understand? They love a Frisk, yes. But not this one.





	A Good Heart's Quiet Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheElusiveOllie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheElusiveOllie/gifts).



> for my favorite number. I think the day I’m finally able to capture all the ways I feel about you in a work of fiction is the day the world ends- but in the meantime, I hope this is enough to say I love you.
> 
> Also this turned out a lot more...experimental and focused in a resolution stage than I was aiming for so I hope it’s still… reasonable wheezelaughs.

* * *

**A good heart’s quiet death looks a lot like people taking advantage.**

**-** [ **inkskinned** ](http://inkskinned.com/post/143830404629/i-dreamed-of-you-out-there-in-the-world-with)

* * *

Climbing mountains is never easy. They know this, of course. Chara knows it too; a journey that they shared well before Frisk had even realized it, that day long trek to venture where no one had gone before. Where no one would ever return. 

The idea of climbing it again had been a recurring desire, but today, desire met reality- and reality didn’t care for whimsical fantasy. It’s a stark reminder of all the pieces neither had thought to burn into their idle daydreams- the way Frisk’s legs cramped multiple times as the incline became too steep, crawling on hands and knees over sharp rocks for that same reason. The sun, relentlessly beating down on their face- and as the afternoon stretched on, the back of their neck. Sweaty locks that glued themselves to skin and obscured their vision, until they were pushed away with an irritated swipe of their hand

For the hundredth time that hour.

Disappearing sounds prettier than it is. Envisioning it in their mind, they’d seen the memory in softer hues- golden light dancing off the rocks on the ground, shadows melting across the ill-kept pathway. Trees dappled and glistening with droplets of sunset as the sky filled itself with pink and orange hues- it felt complete, in a way that nothing else truly did. Contented and decided, walking ever onwards. Your mind's made up. You can, and you have to. You feel...determined.

The only thing they feel right now is thirsty. Disgruntled, Frisk pauses in the shade of a tree trunk to rub at their face, skin stinging from hours of accrued dust and sweat. They’d sit down, but-

** If you sit there, you might never get back up. **

Right. They nod absently, squinting ahead in an attempt to gauge just how much farther it is. They’re not sure, really. It’s quite possible that they’re walking in the wrong direction now; that their walk has somehow taken them much too far to the left, missing the point entirely.

Or perhaps they walked much too far to the left the first time, stumbling across it completely by coincidence. They’d ask Chara, but it’s no use. The trip is equally as unfamiliar to both. It was never meant to be re-enacted.

Frisk’s jaw tightens. They move on.

The phone in their pocket has vibrated two hundred and forty-seven times today; Chara’s been counting. It’s what they do to while away the hours, announcing buzz two hundred and forty-eight with a cheer to their tone that rings inside Frisk’s head and on the edges of their hearing, like a soft breeze. Two hundred and forty-eight stretches on- not a text, but a call. There have been eighty-four calls. Chara’s counted.

This one is ignored in favor of a cool looking stick on the ground- the perfect height and thickness to assist them on their hike. The nostalgia has them swaying, exhaling softly as they press the wood to their forehead.

** Its bark is a lot worse than its bite. **

They huff, stomach overtaken momentarily by wriggling butterflies. That’s the kind of thing they shouldn’t find funny anymore, but do. That’s why Chara said it in the first place.

At least the stick is as useful as they’d expected. The climb simply continues getting steeper, until they’re forced to shove it through loose rocks and shale. It’s so long that if they sink it down deep enough, it remains steady while they pull themself up, inch by inch.

They think- they hope they’re in the right place when the ground starts evening out, just before the last rays of the sun are lost to the sky. The trees that grow up here are big, with trunks so wide they can’t put their arms all the way around them.  **Because they’re so old,** Chara says, voice ringing with anticipation.  **No one’s ever come up this far for firewood. They’re almost as old as the mountain.**

Frisk isn’t sure if they should believe that. Sometimes, Chara likes to exaggerate how much they truly know.

A lot of the time.

Most of the time. Still, they force their pace to quicken, ignoring the angry pins jabbing into their shins, the scratchy feel of their jumper rubbing against sunburnt skin. This all feels as nostalgic as the stick does; dispersed with a sense of rightness that’s all they’ve ever had to guide their path. Even Chara’s quiet, their phone quite possibly out of battery- or out of range. They don’t mind either way, shambling steps turning to an awkward lope as they weave in and out of the undergrowth, eyes- opening, a little. Beyond the usual, careful shading of their lashes, the world is bright. Too bright, blurring in and out of focus as the light stings and grates, quickly deterring their vision from gaining any, actual benefit.

The next time they step into shadows, it’s not coming from a tree. Blinding rapidly, Frisk ignores the little smears of irritated wetness that run down their cheeks, fixated on the natural structure before them. Like a maw into the very mountain itself, stretching wider and wider. Hungry- it hasn’t eaten in such a long time.

Not since the last time it ate them.

** Not much of a meal. ** Chara points out critically. Even so, they’re better than nothing. Perhaps even better than they were before?  ** If you say so. To vore with you, then. **

Shaking their head, Frisk continues… though they can’t help but contemplate the statement. If this was the mouth, did that make the way they came out the mountain’s nose, or its-

** We’re going to cease considering the matter.  ** They agree with a short nod, wrinkling their nose. That’s probably for the best.

Besides, they’re here now. As they pass through the cave’s entrance their footsteps begin to echo, louder and louder the deeper they go. A clicking  _ tapatapatapa  _ that dances around them in the gloom, unhindered by the growing appearance of unwieldy, twisting shapes. In their mind, they can feel Chara sneering- don’t understand, but keep a respectful distance from the unpleasant memory stirring. If their Partner wanted to share it, they would. It was as close to privacy as Frisk could give them.

The deeper they go, the darker it should be, rational thought would say. And yet, they reach a point where the uneven ground starts to become more visible, twisted shapes growing distinct bumps and edges, sprouting leaves and turning green. They both think it’s been like this for a long time; a hole above a  **Hole** , drawing in light from the sky above like a natural spotlight. Drawing the eye. Drawing the SOUL.

**Like a portal to another world, ** they thought.  
Like a portal to another world, **they thought.**

** No  ** one  ** would  ** ever  ** find  ** me  ** there. **

If only they’d both known better, then maybe… CH  ** we could have found somewhere else to fall. **

Beggars can’t be choosers.

It really doesn’t look all that different from they remember. The cool shade is a relief, leaning against the wall to allow the chill to seep through the back of their sweater. Frisk’s eyes stay on the hole. Is it funny to think of Chara, now? Standing here like this, they feel closer to them than ever. Like their presence is strongest when it’s accompanied by the scent of death. It’s a very poetic way to think about such things; Chara approves, a faint breeze at Frisk’s fingertips, like the touch of a hand.

** The two of us may be the epicenter of death, but I was hoping to SPARE you that misery.  ** They recite, words known by heart.  ** It could be like this for as long as we stay together. **

“How good.” Frisk says. Their voice is husky- from lack of water. Lack of use. Both. If they look around long enough, they might just find a little stream, running down a wall. Feeding all these vines, keeping them green and proud.

Maybe later. For now… for now, they both want to be- closer. Step by step, mindful of the vines that snake their way across the ground. They remember them from the last time they were here, but it feels like their body pays extra special care, this time. No need to trip, now. Don’t be careless. So they don’t look up, not even when the ground before them drops away into black. Not when they crouch, slowly shuffling forwards to sit down, legs dropping into open air.

Chara wiggles their toes. They both watch, idly fascinated by the motion they can’t see, occurring over the very edge of the world. To think, they’ve been there before. Every piece of them, falling into the void that keeps one world from another. Would it be different, now that the Barrier was gone? Would they fall faster, slower? If they fell together, would they break each other’s falls?

Or would no one be around to fix them, when they broke on impact?

** Wow. **

“Woah.”

** It’s a Hole. **

“...Do you think it’s okay that we’re here?” Frisk whispers. Their voice is still hoarse, but it’s comfortable, here. Talking aloud to Chara, separating themself from the other voice in their head.

** Two hundred and forty-eight,  ** is Chara’s response, scoffing. Frisk wrinkles their nose.  ** Ask a stupid question; if you thought it was okay, you wouldn’t need to ask me about it. **

“Yes I would.” Frisk mumbles, but it’s half-hearted. They both know it.

**You wanted to be here, good idea or not- we both wanted to be here. ** Chara amends, before Frisk can say anything about it.  ** It’s not like it really matters. **

That hurts.

“Yeah.” They let their heels fall back into stone, kicking in a petulant manner. “It doesn’t.”

One of their laces is untied. They can see it flying back and forth, back and forth- every time it does so, the snug fit of their shoe shifts around their heel. Five kicks later, their shoe goes flying- one of two sparkly green sneakers Mettaton had given them during their last shopping trip together. It falls just short of crossing the gap, striking the lip and clattering down, down- out of sight and out of mind. That doesn’t matter either, does it?

Try as they might, it still doesn’t matter much.

** I remember thinking, listlessly, is this what it means to live?  ** Slowly, contemplatively. Making a bigger deal out of the loss of a shoe than should be made.  ** But now I feel it in my gut. Why is it we have so little choice? We live like the lowliest worms. Always defeated-- defeated we make dinner, we eat, we sleep. **

“We read Kitchen last night.” Frisk reminds them, though they don’t mind, so much. When Chara recites, it reminds them of the beginning. A Narration of what was and is, nothing more. Before the voice in their head developed beyond a story.

If there was one change Frisk liked more than the start of the story, it was that.

** One does not simply read Kitchen.  ** They say, tone chiding. They’re doing it again, aren’t they? A meme.  ** No... yes. I fail to see how this mitigates my point. **

A rasp of a chuckle. The jabs in their shins have died down, but the rest of their body is…. Heavier. Climbing mountains- it seems like such an idyllic thing to do. Their body disagrees entirely. Sighing, Frisk leans back, resting against the ground. Climbing a mountain, it’s hard. Walking down is probably harder. They frown.

The world frowns back.

“Why are you here?!” It hisses at them. Which is rather odd, since the world has never hissed at them before.

“Um.” Says Frisk eloquently.

“Not an answer.” Says the world, looming above them. It’s looming rather close, perhaps in an attempt to look bigger than it is. It is, however, actually quite small. And possibly not the world. The round of curses Flowey lets out is actually pretty impressive, though Chara is quick to remind them that he’s had one hundred years to practice this, at least.

Can’t let him be too impressive, can they.

“I thought He told you to leave me alone.” He eventually says, the politest comment he’s made so far. As he curls back down to the ground, Frisk sits up, rolling over and hovering unsurely. They feel a little too aware of how he stands (plants? grows??) between them and solid ground.

“He did. I wasn’t bothering you.”

“ _ You dropped a shoe on me! _ ” Flowey screeches, at an octave so high, Frisk has to wince. “How is that not  _ bothering?!  _ If you’re not here to see me, then  _ why  _ are you here? Are you-”

He stops, suddenly, as if only just taking in where they are. Frisk. The Hole. The smile that creeps across his face like vines on the floor is the opposite of healthy, and none too Green.

“You’re bored, is that it? This ending is boring now, so you’re here to finish what you started. Time to go back after all; it’s no fun, just living your life. No fun, having your future. You’d rather  _ come back _ and  _ play with me, all over again- _ ”

“No!” Frisk cuts in hastily. Before he can convince himself he’s right- before he takes matters into his own hands-- vines. Before he decides to give them a shove. A few of his petals actually are a little crinkled, they notice guiltily. Chara laughs. “No, I’m- I wanted-”

Their voice cracks, effectively stopping them as they clear their throat, swallowing roughly. Sitting up properly, they turn back to the CH  **Hole** , staring down. He could have brought their shoe with him.

Maybe that’s too much to ask.

“I’ll go back soon. They won’t know I was gone.”

“They better not.” Flowey spits. He deflates like a switch has been flipped, sour demeanor returning. “If they all come running up here, accusing me of kidnapping you- deal’s off. I’ll leave this place, just to make their lives a living hell. That doesn’t tell me  _ why you’re here _ , by the way.”

Frisk hums, looking to the ceiling. Chara is a breeze that elbows them in the ribs. It’s how they show encouragement.

They think.

** You should tell him.  ** It’s not a suggestion they’re expecting, response blurted out unthinkingly in the wake of surprise.

“Why?”

“Because you’re bothering me,” Flowey says impatiently. “Are you even listening? We just went over this.”

** Because you cannot continue keeping things a secret. **

“But-”

**No. I shan’t be your sounding board forever. ** Chara tsks- and then they laugh. Like they’ve thought of something incredibly funny.

“But  _ what?! _ ” His voice is beginning to reach that higher octave again. They wish he would stop, or Chara would stop- they can barely hear themself think over the chorus of voices vying for their attention. And if they can’t do that, how are they supposed to hear whatever Chara thinks is so funny?

** I said- if you don’t tell him, then I will. **

“You won’t.” An immediate protest. It’s loud- loud enough to echo. They won’t. They wouldn’t.

** And if I do? What are you going to do about it?  ** Chara doesn’t have a lip to curl, anymore. They don’t have arms to cross, or eyes to narrow. They only have their voice; just their voice, just to Frisk. They make their voice count.  ** _Kill me?_ **

Frisk could try to argue. Try to say that’s- unfair, it’s really unfair, but Chara already knows that. There’s no point in starting an argument when Chara’s already decided they’ll win. An exhale, lips thinning into a pinched line as Frisk turns back to Flowey. He looks…

Disturbed. There’s a little furrow to what constitutes as his brow, like he’s trying to figure out a particularly difficult puzzle. They hate that look.

**Stop thinking, start talking.** Chara sing-songs.  **You’re here because-**

“Nobody really likes me,” Frisk says aloud, tone clipped. They can’t win this argument, but they  _ can  _ stop eating chocolate for the rest of the month. Maybe even two months. “Asriel was wrong.”

Flowey rears back on his stem, face blank. They don’t- say anything else, yet, hands curling into nervous fists in their lap. If he’d just- say something, so they know what he thinks, then-

“Are you  _ kidding me? _ ” He cackles. And he continues to do so, ignoring their increasingly pinched expression to revel in this newfound mirth. He’s probably laughing at their expense. Definitely laughing at their expense. “That’s the STUPIDEST THING I’ve EVER HEARD. Those idiots  _ love you _ , their precious little human. Their precious, little,  _ Angel- _ ”

“I’m not.”

A pause. Seems like- they both weren’t expecting that. Frisk interrupting. Frisk disagreeing.

** You didn’t. **

“You what?” Flowey’s petals ruffle in a non-existent breeze, monster drawing himself up to his full, indignant height. “Don’t joke with me, Frisk. He was there, remember?  _ He  _ felt everything.”

His face- bulges outwards, face warping soundlessly into an overly exaggerated snout, eyes bulging to twice- three times their original size. When he speaks, his voice is almost a perfect replica of-

“I have faith in you, my child.” Says ‘Toriel’, batting ‘her’ lashes. “I know that you shall be good.”

“HUMAN!” ‘Papyrus’ booms out next, face sharp and angular- and off-color. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, BELIEVE IN YOU!! A CUNNING PUZZLEMASTER AND DATING EXPERT WOULD NEVER SURRENDER TO SUCH DASTARDLY EVIL- and so rude, too…”

“You’re pretty tough for a human, punk!” ‘Undyne’ exclaims gleefully. “No way is this chump strong enough to take you down. You might be a softie with a big heart, but you can totally kick hIS ASS!!!”

** But you didn’t. **

“Y-you’re, um, statistically- youprobablywon’tsurvivethis, but- you’re gonna do just fine! Because you’re- you’re a hero! Eh heh.”

But I’m not.

“Strike a dashing pose, darling! This is your monster-wide debut!”

** It wasn't the first. **

“Yo, I’ll help you fight!”

You didn’t.

“We’re all behind you, dearie.”

** You’re not. **

“For the future of humans and monster, you must stay Determined!”

Why  ** am  ** I  ** the  ** only  ** one  ** who  ** has  ** to  ** stay  ** Deter ** mined ** ?

“Forget it. I’m rootin’ for ya, kiddo-”

“You’re a  ** LIAR! ** ” The scream echoes from everywhere, bouncing off the walls and down the Hole with a clamor that has them clapping  ** their  ** hands over their ears, eyes shut tightly. It’s like th **ey** fell off a highwire, careful balance ripped away until everything becomes a confusing rush of howling wind with nothing left to grasp onto, and they don’t know who  **they ** are anymore-

Something curls around th ** eir  ** upper arm, dragging  ** th ** em backwards. And  ** they Hate It ** , bringing the ** ir  ** arm up above  ** th ** eir head, clawing at thin air, a futile attempt to dislodge the snare. Nothing really happens.

Something happens.

“Stop it! Stoppit,  _ stoppit, StOpPiT _ -” Three, individual spikes of pain blossom in their cheek. Frisk yelps, clapping their hand over unbroken, yet tender skin, floundering in confusion. The answer comes as soon as they open their eyes, a swarm of “friendliness pellets” greeting their vision the second they start to focus. There’s hundreds, filling the space between them and Flowey- aside from the lone vine wrapped tightly about their arm.

It’s- are they-

** Just you, Frisk.  ** Chara confirms distantly, voice subdued. They sound

Tired.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Flowey shrieks. The vine tightens around their arm, fingers tingling as they begin to lose circulation. “Are you epileptic? Are you _ brain-dead?!  _ What kind of idiot parks themself at the edge of a cliff so they can have a seizure?!”

Their legs are completely straight, Frisk realizes, socked foot pressed firmly down against rock. A glance downwards confirms it- they’re several feet away from where they remember being seated.

“...Thanks.”

“I didn’t do it for  _ you _ ,” Flowey sneers. “I did it for  _ me;  _ every time you LOAD, I’m always in the middle of something  _ I have to start over.  _ Do you know how many times you’ve ruined my progress? Gardening? A game of Solitaire? I’m in exile, not  _ motionless. _ ”

The bullets disappear- their arm is released just as quickly, vine disappearing between the cracks in the rock. ‘

“And if you didn’t LOAD? Ugh. That’s even worse. Will you sit up already?” It isn’t a request. Frisk hastens to comply, pushing up on one arm- quickly followed by the other. Their entire body is shaking like a leaf; they should have brought a water bottle. Some food, too...

“Uuuugh. Stay here.” Looking extremely put-upon, Flowey dives into the ground. He doesn’t leave even the slightest trace he was there; looking closer, he didn’t even have a crack to squeeze into… it’s solid rock.

** Magic, duh.  ** Chara reminds them. Frisk tries to wet their lips- it’s futile, but they try anyway, voice barely a whisper in response.

“Sorry.”

** It wasn’t you, Frisk.  ** Flat, but reassuring. They wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.  **This is just- how it be, on this bitch of an Earth.**

They try to smile. Nothing happens.

** It’s fine. We’re just going to LOAD, anyway.  ** Chara continues, voice growing in strength.  **No one was even around to witness it, this time- no one important.**

“He won’t forget, though.” One secret they can’t take back. Not even the one they were supposed to be sharing. Even if he doesn’t understand what happened, it’s private. Personal.

They don’t want to explain it all.

** Maybe it’s for the best.  ** It sounds grudging- an admittance that makes the hairs on Frisk’s arms stand on end.  **Just in case we get-- stuck, someday.**

...They don’t want to think about that. In fact, they’d rather not think about any of this, right now. Chara seemingly understands, leaving Frisk to wait for Flowey in silence.

“Here.” A canteen drops at their feet, contents sloshing around noisily. A second, softer thud (a  _ paff,  _ Frisk thinks) announces the distribution of something rounder, carefully wrapped inside a dirt-covered towel. Their throat burns- but curiosity wins overall, fingers carefully plucking the fabric apart.

It’s a cinnabun. But it doesn’t look like the ones the rabbit lady used to sell them… their hesitation must be showing, because Flowey’s quick to comment.

“Monster food doesn’t spoil, moron. Just eat it.”

** Unlike some people, we prefer our food before it’s been dragged through the dirt. **

They take the largest bite they can, despite Chara’s protests. It doesn’t taste like dirt at all- still warm. The perfect blend of puff pastry and cinnamon, in addition to something grainy that Frisk doesn’t quite have the name for. Topped off with a light sprinkling of icing sugar.

** Did you know? Monster food doesn’t spoil, but it does go cold. **

“S’good.” They mumble around the treat, already tearing off another mouthful. Their stomach approves. “Thank h’yu.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t send you home with bullet wounds, can I?” He settles back against the ground with a grumble, watching every bite they take like a hawk. “Can’t kick you out if you faint, either, so eat. Drink, too; it’s just sea tea.”

He seems satisfied the more they comply, remaining motionless until after they’ve finished licking the cinnamon off their fingers and gulping the majority of the tea; they don’t tell him, but they kind of don’t want to finish it, yet. It might be good to have on the way back down…

“So,” The monster begins carefully, still watching their face. “What did you mean, nobody likes you?”

** He's waiting to see if you’ll lose it again. **

Undoubtedly.

“I know they love you; I  _ remember.  _ Everyone thinks you’re some kind of- saint. It’s  _ disgusting. _ ”

“I know.” Frisk answers, rubbing their throat. It feels a lot better- their face and neck do, as well. Maybe that’s why they didn’t remember getting sunburn. Monster food fixes everything. “But they don’t like me.”

Flowey stares. If he had eyebrows, they’re sure he’d be raising them.

**...May I? **

“Think about it. They love a Frisk.” Chara continues without hesitation, crisp and decisive. “They all  _ think  _ they do. Toriel loves her quiet Frisk, who likes to stay at home. Asgore wants a diplomatic Frisk, a strong leader. Alphys wants a strong Frisk, who never gets upset like she does. Undyne wants a fighter, Sans wants- anyone else.”

He looks more and more skeptical the longer they speak, opening his mouth to interject- Chara holds up a hand, shaking their head.

“Obedient Frisk. Diplomatic Frisk. Frisk who is always calm- Frisk who is always ready to fight. Merciful, loving Frisk. Forgiving Frisk.” They can feel Chara curving their lips into a smile. It doesn’t feel very pleasant. “Understand? They love a Frisk, yes. But not this one.”

“Huh.”

** I take payment in chocolate. I shall also claim the next three slices of pie. **

“Okay.” Flowey mumbles. He looks at the ground, petals casting too many shadows for them to make out his expression. “Okay, I think… I think I understand… no- wait, yes.  _ Yes! I’VE GOT IT. _ ”

He perks up immediately, smiling with glee.

“You don’t think you meet their expectations, huh? You’re not enough.”

“Initially, you would have been right,” Chara concedes, although- they’re a little irritated, Frisk thinks. “It would be nice, to be what they want me to be, but not only am I not capable of it, I’m also angry at them.”

It feels- heavier, to hear that out loud. Like they’ve just coughed up a large stone that Chara drops to the ground. But- Flowey nods understandingly, quick enough to put it all into context… now that he’s got enough pieces.

** An attempt was made. **

“Sure. So you get angry. And then-?”

“And then I do things I feel I shouldn’t.” That’s- even heavier. Frisk clasps their hands together, just so they can dig their fingernails into the backs of their palms. “I yell at them, throw things- break things. Then I tell them about all the horrible things they did before.”

“Before this timeline.” Clarification- one that no one in the cave really needs. “Sucks, doesn’t it? When people can’t even remember how badly they’ve hurt you.”

Yes.  ** It does. **

Frisk feels a surge of surprise, but Chara- doesn’t. There’s a calm surety in their presence, something knowing and… sad, that makes Frisk wonder if their Partner had been expecting this response all along. But then again, they don’t really need to question something they already know the answer to.

“And the constant  _ favors-  _ did you know you can make them all so happy, they get  _ tired of it?  _ Like happiness is some kind of finite resource; like I’ve got nothing better to do than constantly tend to whatever new need they have. They always want something  _ more. _ ” He pauses, breathing deeply- and leers at them. “Here I was, thinking you’d be into that. Everyone needing something from you, all the time.”

They don’t know what to say, to that.

“...Look, Frisk. I’m not Him- I’m not going to tell you what to do, or tell you things are going to be  _ just dandy, if you keep believing they will _ .” His face twists into an ugly grimace, but only for a moment. “But I can tell you what I think I would do.”

“...Sure.” Frisk says. It’s- they don’t know why he’s even offering, but they feel- better, for hearing it. That he does have an opinion, one that isn’t making fun of them, maybe. One that they could consider for themself- that they can consider with Chara.

Flowey’s actually being helpful.

“If it were me... I’d sit them all down,” Flowey says slowly. “And I’d tell them exactly what they’d done. All of it.”

He laughs at their choked noise, petals shaking.

“Hee hee- I’m serious, actually. I’d tell them all about every rotten thing they’d done- and just to be sure they could  _ never _ forget, I’d SAVE, right there. No take backs.” He frowns. “I didn’t let them free just to let them have free reign over making you miserable- if I wanted that, I’d do it myself. You’re supposed to be living  _ your  _ life,  _ your  _ future. Not theirs.”

“But I-” Their tongue feels like it’s glued to the top of their mouth. Coughing, Frisk takes a small sip of tea, just to give them a little more time to formulate the words. “I can’t do that.”

** You could. **

“You can, actually. You just sit them down and spit it out.” He grins, eyes misting over. “Once you start, you won’t want to stop. And once it’s done? You never have to do it again. No more LOADing your tantrums away. No more trying to  _ SPARE  _ their feelings. You’ll be free- really free. Like He wanted.”

He talks like Asriel is a trump card of some kind.

He kind of is. That quiet, sad kid who’d just wanted to take care of the flowers, who asked things no one did before and… no one has, since. He wanted to know why they climbed the mountain. He knew- it wasn’t for a very happy reason.

If there was any monster who knew they had a bad side- who’d seen them kill or be killed, lose their temper. Lash out and kick and scream, sometimes purely because they could, and because they could, they  _ did _ ; it was Asriel.

Everyone else wanted Frisk to be Something. For… for ten minutes, there’d been someone who just wanted Frisk to be Frisk. Even if the person he used to be had wanted them to be someone else, too.

Despite everything

** It’s still you. **

“...I don’t know how to say it.”

“Oh, you will. Even if it feels forced at first. Trust me; I’m speaking from experience.” Small vines push up from between the rocks, gathering up the empty fabric. “And if it’ll stop you from coming up  _ here _ , then I’m almost tempted to go down there and do it for you.”

He cackles at the look on their face. Frisk is sure it’s beyond description. Flowey’s- an odd flower. He’s not a good person; out of everyone, he’s probably the one who’s hurt them the most. They haven’t forgotten that; he probably hasn’t, either, even if he never apologizes.

But he does know. For now, that simple fact is enough to make his presence comfortable, almost pleasant. He’s not Asriel… but it’s a relatively similar feeling. It feels like

Freedom.

** The thought of feeling like this all the time, it fills you **

With Determination.


End file.
